


Madame Curie, Potion's Mistress

by remarkable1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Deepthroating, F/M, Fantasizing, Humor, Love, Masturbation, Pregnancy, Seduction, Sex, Stalking, Swearing, Voyeurism, overspending, phallic polishing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 18:17:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20430332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remarkable1/pseuds/remarkable1
Summary: Snape's Fantasies and revelation about a mysterious, captivating Potion's Mistress, and the moment of truth.





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: I am reposting my old HP stuff from ff net over to A03. Anything in progress will, at some point, be updated, but I haven't written anything new for HP in over a year probably. Anything HP posted in the next month or so that is finished or a one-shot are not fics I intend to continue writing at any point (because my muse is long moved on from them.) This isn't to say I won't write HP again, I'm just into Marvel and Marvel/HP crossovers at the moment. I also have several unfinished, unpublished Voyager fics in the works. My muse is slow, and I now only post stories when they are complete or mostly so.

A/N/N: This fic was early in my fanfic writing days. It's fun to see where you've come from and how far you've come in that time. I cringe a little bit seeing my early stuff, switching tenses, no clue where commas go, etc. I rarely used a beta, usually unable to get one. I invested in Grammarly recently and boy, that has really helped correct some of my stuff like this that I'm transferring from ff net. So while my HP reposts are getting some slight repolishing, I'm not changing the elemental style of the fics, as it's a progression, of sorts, for me, in my journey, like a fanfic diary if you will. I find it fascinating, the development process. I know I still have a long way to go to be really well polished, but I do hope I've done some justice to my stories in the beginning and now in the present.

A/N/N/N: Sorry for so many author notes, I don't normally do this in fics I'm currently writing. I will add in warning tags as I'm editing, as it's been a long time since I've re-read this, so check each chapter for updated tags for triggers, if necessary. This chapter was originally a one-shot and expanded into a multi-chaptered fic, quite humorous, but the rest of the fic is a darker tone.

Chapter 1

nape furrowed his brow as he squinted at the Muggle contraption at his fingertips. Albus had introduced him to the wonders of the World Wide Web, expounding the revolutionary way they were able to condense their student records, lesson plans, order supplies for the school, and so on and so forth, via computers and the Internet. Albus had even managed to pipe the arcane Muggle technology of electricity into the professional staff's personal quarters. Each of them was presented with a "complete package that no wizard should be without." The boxes and instructions manual had been dropped in front of his door like yesterday's Hufflepuff refuse bins.

Fingers more suited to tending potions and disciplining wayward miscreants clumsily hen-pecked out the words Albus had scribbled on a piece of parchment. He muttered as he typed. Double-you, double-you, double-you dot Madame Curies Potions dot com enter. Oh wait, he was not supposed to type enter. That was the button on the right side of the typing machine. He attempted to fix the mistake but ended up erasing the whole thing.

"Damn!" he muttered. It would have been so much easier just to gather the ingredients for his stores as he always had, but the Ministry of Magic had decided to regulate and tax Potions ingredients used in medical institutions, government research, and educational facilities. The over-reaching regulations stemmed from frivolous lawsuits accusing the government of lax oversight. A few greedy Mudbloods out to rake in some quick galleons by hexing their own family members with Unforgivables and than pretending various ingredients were to blame for a continual decline. The Potion Regulation and Enhancement Act made his job a significant pain in the arse.

On top of lesson plans, Dumbledore had put him in charge of inventory for his own potions stores and the infirmary as well. Like he didn't waste enough time deducting House points form wayward snogging Hufflepuffs and dodging errant exploding cauldrons from sniveling first years. Straining his eyes in front of an infernal Muggle contraption was not his idea of a good day, not that Snape had good days. A good day for him meant bloody Albus keeping his wayfaring nose out of his private affairs for more than two minutes and evading Trewlaney's stalking clutches. A weekend spent over a stinking cauldron, alone in the dungeon with a good book and some aged Muggle brandy was, indeed, an excellent time.

He started over. Double-you double-you double-you dot Madame Curies Potions dot com. Okay, now he had to push the Enter button, not type it in. Enter.

Welcome to the World Wide Web's Finest Array of Spells, Potions, Elixirs, and Charms!

Browse our exceptional selection from the comfort of your dungeon! (shit, how did they know he was in a dungeon?)

If you don't see something you need, send an email to www dot MadameCuriesgotit dot com.

What the hell was Madame Curies go tit? Oh, got it. Not go tit. Snape smirked. Good one.

After figuring out how to use the mouse (he had held it upside down for twenty minutes at first, threatening to hex the damn thing), he was thoroughly absorbed in browsing the, indeed, wide selection of items available. His mouth literally watered. It was a Potion Master's paradise. He would have to have a warehouse the size of Hogwarts if he were to order one of everything. Snape's fingers itched with the prospects. The idea of gathering his own ingredients flew right out the window along with his bank account balance as he happily clicked his way to bankruptcy.

Albus was furious. "Do you know how much money you spent on Potion's ingredients?"

"No, but I assume you are about to enlighten me, Headmaster." The corner of his mouth twitched. This was not going to be pretty.

"You spent roughly twenty thousand galleons on potion's ingredients! That's the total budget for ALL of Hogwarts supplies for the entire year! The shipping was outrageous! Instead of Owl, you ordered expedited delivery by Hippogriff!" There was an insane twinkle in the old man's eyes.

"I don't even know where we are going to put it all! I can't exactly expand the castle to triple its size just to store your twenty-five years worth of Potions ingredients!"

"Can you refuse the shipment, Headmaster?"

Albus laughed hysterically." Are you kidding? It's an International Order! Once it goes through customs, we're fucked!"

The utterance of a taboo expletive from the mouth of Albus Dumbledore was surely not a good sign.

"I will forego my salary for the year, Headmaster."

"That you will; and because this is your mess, I am going to let you dig yourself out of it. Your new assignment before the start of the year is to use the Room of Requirement to store it all. Starting now. Have fun! Lemon drop?"

Severus shook his head, following the Headmaster's gaze out the window to the castle grounds. Angry Hippogriffs laden with Potions ingredients were all standing at attention, ready to be unloaded into the castle.

"You better get to work!" chuckled the old man.

"Indeed."

Four days, sixty-eight Mocha Frappachino's and one aching back later, the Professor slumped into his bed in a caffeine overload-induced coma for forty-eight hours straight.

When he woke up, after a shit, shower and shave, he immediately sent off an email to this Madame Curie demanding she take the spending charm off her website or he was going to take the complaint up with the Ministry and Wizengamot. He most thoroughly blamed her for losing his year's worth of salary, and it would not be the last she heard from him. Severus desperately wished he could send a hex over the Internet.

On the bright side, he was very well stocked for Potions that year. He let some of the non-dunderheaded students do extra credit by creating their own simple concoctions. An only slightly irritating Gryffindor managed to turn her cat's fur into feathers. A useless, if rather amusing experiment. Much to the cat's chagrin, a counter potion was not as forthcoming. On the other hand, it was the only flying cat in the castle.

Snape didn't seem to miss his lack of funds. On the contrary, he was having a marvelous time window shopping on the World Wide Web. He discovered what was called a chat group for Potions masters. Instead of spending tedious hours poring through hoary old tomes for an ingredient or spell, he was able to type it into Google and come up with hundreds of helpful tips that significantly increased the efficiency of his lab and categorization of the ingredients.

Severus even started his own Yahoo group. It was tough to come up with a name. Even after a long, restless night arguing with himself, the best he could come up with was Potions Masters R Us.

Within a month he had over fifty members and growing. The greasy bat of the dungeons was quickly becoming an Internet Potions Master celebrity. He began a regular correspondence with the owner of the website he adored, Madame Curies, and she, in turn, helped him develop his own web page.

Minus his own photo, Snape began transferring all of his knowledge from books and memory to his web page. She even encrypted it for him, so anyone who wanted to join had to pay a monthly subscription fee to access the site. For a mere five percent stake of the proceeds, she was content with maintaining the bits and bobs for him while he scanned in and uploaded as much information as he could get his hands on. It would take months to complete, but wasn't that what detentions were for? He had better things to do, after all, like plan a visit to this Madame Curie.

She was bloody brilliant. The witch had a wit to match his own, seemed almost more knowledgeable about potions ingredients than he, and had the same contempt for moronic imbeciles that couldn't spell their own name much less brew a potion. If his black heart were capable, he would have sworn he was in love.

The obsession with checking his email was overwhelming. Every chance he got, Snape was down in the dungeon, clicking away on the icon and cursing the hourglass that made him wait. Albus was too bloody cheap to get them anything but dial-up, so the connection was maddeningly slow. The biggest pisser was when it finally loaded his inbox, and just when he was about to click a new email message from Madame Curie with a trembling hand, the fucking machine froze up, and he had to re-boot. It really ate away his break times.

He was shocked at how many closet Potion masters there were in the world. Snape figured there were plenty of wannabes, but who was he to deny them knowledge if they wanted to pay the fifty galleons a month to access his website? By the time he reached one thousand members, he had to open a second Gringotts vault just to hold the mountain of quid rolling in.

Severus began to wonder about what Madame Curie looked like. Surely she was tall and slim, a lovely, intelligent witch with ample bosoms, rounded hips, and a plump derriere. Her long, curvy legs would glide across the room, slender, manicured hands would caress a potions phial with loving reverence. Her slinky black gown would cling to every curve, enhancing the swell of each tasty morsel, ripe for the harvest.

He would be watching her from a corner of the shop, obsidian eyes hooded behind a curtain of oily black hair and a wide smirk. She would be talking to some wanker who knew nothing, drooling openly over a woman who was surely beneath him. The lady of the night would cut the man down with a snide remark and throw him out of the shop on his ear. Her eye would briefly catch his as she glided back into the shop with cat-like grace. Her sexy lips would part slightly, tongue flicking out to find a bit of crumb leftover from a snack.

Now alone together in the empty shop, the object of his desire would demurely walk behind the counter, running her fingers up and down the glass aimlessly, humming to herself. As if randomly, she would transfigure a bit of cloth to polish phials in all shapes and sizes. She would pick up a long, slender glass in the form of a phallus. The fabric then rubbed gently up and down the shaft, making the journey to the bulbous head, swirling in tight circles at the tip. Both of her hands would come down over the shaft, working the cloth up and down in long, languid strokes.

Fantasy Severus would be stiff in the corner, watching her erotic dance with the glass out of his side vision. He sported a massive erection under his voluminous robe. Pretending to look at some ingredients more closely, he leaned forward and placed his hands on a rail separating customers from the fragile merchandise. One hand disappeared inside his robes, freeing his erection and grasping himself firmly.

A slow dance commences, Madam Curie making love to the phial with her loving fingers, her breasts now pressed into the head of the glass to get a grip to better clean the bottom of the shaft. It creates a sharp contrast between her breasts, tightening the fabric to show off the outline of her erect nipples.

She watches him, aware that he is jerking off to her wanton display of lust.

Her chin lowers to the tip of the glass, and her tongue flicks out to lick it.

He groans inwardly, gripping the rail tight with one hand while increasing the pressure and speed of his motion with the other.

She walks toward him, the glass phial abandoned on the countertop.

He tries to hide from her, desperately fumbling to shove his erection back into his trousers.

It's too late. She's standing right beside him now, five blessed fingers staying his wrist, gentle pressure encouraging him to turn around.

Utter terror grips his throat, and he is unable to speak, horrified to be caught out wanking in her shop.

A purely evil smile graces her plum pudding lips, and she sinks to her knees before him.

Unbelieving eyes burn holes into the top of her head as a dreamy creamy mouth wets itself and sinks over the head of his shaft.

A groan of bliss escapes his lips at the incredible agony burning through him.

French tips tickle the underside of his scrotum, scratching and pulling, rolling and kneading.

The tip of her finger wickedly finds its way beneath his sack to the rim of his arsehole.

A naughty digit probes its way inside up to the first knuckle causing blindness behind his eyes as she takes him deep into her throat, hitting the bottom of his shaft in time to the errant finger.

The sensations building in him are titanic in proportion. Roughened, calloused hands lose abandon, pressing hard against the back of her head while his hips pump a distinctive rhythm, the pressure building to an insane boiling point. Naughty finger plunges into his arse all the way as her lips pull their suction off his tip with a loud 'pop!' before playing peek a boo one last time over his cock.

A river of sticky come floods the inside of her mouth, the greedy potions mistress sucking every last drop out of his empty balls like the cream from inside a twinkie.

A great shudder of release runs through him, complete exhaustion threatening to overwhelm his trembling legs.

Madame Curie licks the last bit off his weeping tip and stands to attention with a sly wink, lurking back behind the counter to nonchalantly continue polishing her merchandise.

Severus opened his eyes.

Ah, shite. He came all over the third year's term paper essays again.


	2. Of Broken Wings and Engagements

The sticky mess wouldn't come off the papers no matter how many times he performed the Evanesco spell over them.

Easy come, easy go; pun intended. He tossed the batch into the fire. Being the greasy bastard he was, the professor would tell the class that their papers were such a dismal collective failure, they had spontaneously combusted on his desk. He would make the assignment twice as long when he told them they had to be redone, due the following day.

Well, that had indeed been a most satisfying orgasm. It was high time he took some leave to find this witch. Madame Curie hadn't given him any identifying information. It was curious that he knew extensively about her talents, likes and dislikes, and about bits of personality that had shown through in her correspondence. Yet, he knew nothing of her real name, age, looks, where she lived or anything that would tell him who she was. Surely she was someone he knew. A Potions mistress of her caliber would be a well-known entity among such a small international community.

The Professor liked a good puzzle. This was going to be a challenge he would relish.

xx

Hermione Granger stared at the computer screen in absolute shock. Severus Snape was coming to Paris, intent on meeting, 'the illustrious Potions Mistress that has captured my heart and imagination.'

Uh, right. Okay. This wasn't exactly what she had had in mind when she began this correspondence. It had been an entertaining way to pass the time, in between waiting for order fulfillment and billing cycles. The evil little cursor blinked at her in all its digital innocence, the blank page before her mocking as it waited for her to reply.

Maybe it was time for her to come clean. No, wait. She couldn't do that! Snape had the worst vindictive streak of anyone she had ever known. How could a man of his caliber fall in love with a fictitious swot over the fucking internet? Oh, right. She had lied through her teeth. It was her fault he probably imagined her with a posh office on the fifty eleventh floor of some posh wizarding penthouse, all three-inch spiked heels, and red lipstick, dripping sarcasm at all of the employees at her disposal.

Instead, she was sat in gold and maroon sweatpants with holes gracing the knees, a comfy old sweatshirt and a mug of disgustingly black coffee to the right of her state-of-the-art laptop nestled in the tatty Internet café booth. This was her life, her façade. Madame Curie, Potions Mistress, was a stroke of genius. Drop shippers and web development geeks took care of the majority of her work. All she had to do was procure new suppliers and bullshite the various clienteles that ate up her image.

It was a morning routine. Get up, roll out of bed, feed Crookshanks, frig herself in the shower, laptop, croissant and coffee down in the café beneath her flat in downtown Paris, bullshite the morning away, back upstairs for a nap, another frig in the shower, change, out for a stroll, back home and off to bed. It was a droll way to spend one's life. No one expected anything of her, and she could run away from everyone that she had let down following the war.

"Christ," Hermione muttered to herself, running a small hand through her disheveled hair. What was she going to do? She couldn't very well cast a Fidelus charm around the Internet Café, or the Muggles would never be able to find it. The damn place was perfect for hiding in. She hid in plain sight, and no one was the wiser. The most the transplanted hippie owner of the joint knew was that she had flipped her lid and was living off an inheritance. She certainly hadn't dissuaded him from this amusing observation. As long as she kept buying his horrid coffee and stale croissants, he didn't say a word.

Hermione shot off a quick email to Professor Snape and ran upstairs to pack her bags. It was high time she relocated. If he figured out who she was, she would be ruined. Dragging a brush through her hair and quickly magicking her few belongings into a sports duffel, she hitch-hiked to the train station and took off on the first bullet out of Paris.

Reflecting on the ride to who-knew-where, Hermione was brought back to the horrible practical joke played on Snape by her friends; the trick that got blamed on her, thus landing her in the blessing and curse of a life she was in today.

(flashback)

The awards ceremony to hand out Order of Merlins to war heroes packed the rented Wizarding Auditorium in Lincolnshire. Every member of the Order of the Phoenix was in attendance, including the exonerated Severus Snape, accompanied by the miracle return of Albus Dumbledore, who in retrospect, had faked his own death with a very real likeness of himself that disintegrated after the burial, much to the shock and unanimous delight of almost the entire wizarding world, including Snape himself.

Hermione had been enlisted to organize the awards ceremony, including the cards that would be opened by the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Hermione spelled each card to open at the tap of his wand. The card would announce each recipient as he or she came to the stage. When handed the card, it was charmed to transform into the Medal of Honor bestowed on said recipient in a puff of blue, silver or green smoke depending on class, or white smoke for Fourth or Fifth class.

Gasps of appreciation rose from the audience as each witch or wizard accepted their award, made a short acceptance speech, and then took their places behind the Minister for Magic and his newly elected cabinet. Hermione stood on the right side of the stage to shake the hands of the award recipients as they ascended the stage. The front row of the awards ceremony included the head of the Wizengamot as well as the new Board of Governors.

Snape had shifted uncomfortably in his seat, waiting what seemed an interminably long time for his name to be called, as Albus assured him it would. The infernal twinkle in the old geezer's eyes stayed him in his chair as finally, Shacklebolt announced his rise to the podium.

In the traditional swirl of black robes, Snape ascended the stage and stepped onto the dais. What happened next had played over and over in the mind of one Hermione Granger each, and every night she closed her eyes, often crying herself to sleep.

As Snape took hold of the proffered card which had been initially spelled to announce an Order of Merlin First Class, it came alive and shot out of his hand. The card transformed into what appeared to be a great swooping black bat that beat its wings, rushing low over the startled heads of the crowded auditorium. A great booming voice from somewhere in the rafters of the building announced, "And the award for greasy git, scum and blood traitor goes to Snivellous Snape, black bat of the dungeons, Order of Merlin Low Class!"

Dead silence fell over the rustling crowd as the black bat dissipated in a puff of conjured smoke. A stunned panel stared from Snape to the Minister, and then all eyes came to rest on Hermione Granger.

Her mouth opened and closed in a close approximation of a fish on a hook, unable to move or speak for fear nothing would come out but a horrified shriek.

Snape had narrowed his eyes and glared at her in a most venomous manner.

A dull roar erupted at once as pandemonium ensued, numerous Wizarding flashbulbs going off when Snape leaped from the stage with his hands outstretched, reaching for Granger in what appeared to be an attempt to strangle her on the spot.

Not knowing what else to do, and with nowhere to go in the crowded arena, Hermione Disapparated.

(end flashback)

Much speculation was bantered about when Hermione did not surface for questioning. At first, people assumed she was deeply embarrassed over the entire incident and had gone underground for a few days to let things blow over until the truth came out. Admittedly, the indubitably impeccable and trustworthy Hermione Granger would never pull such a despicable stunt.

A week went by, and the initial scathing and conflicting reports turned into speculation that her continued absence was an admission of guilt by absentia.

A month went by, and search parties of the Order gave up looking for her. No one had come forward to claim responsibility for the humiliating act, and, after all, it WAS only Snape. He had since received his Order of Merlin, First Class, but the damage was already done. Severus Snape had been humiliated in front of the entire wizarding elite.

Hermione knew she couldn't go back to face her friends or family, so she had fled to Paris and started her own company. Now, it was all threatening to come crashing down around her, so she was booking it out of there to her backup office in Romania. She fell asleep to the rhythm of the train clickity-clacking down the tracks at breakneck speed while the low hum of private conversation swirled around her.

xx

Snape Apparated in three stages to the Roissy-Charles de Gaulle airport just north of Paris. It had been a common meeting point for overseas business dealings for both the Dark Lord's and Snape's own private acquisition of various potions ingredients from French suppliers. The secluded Apparition point was still obviously used quite frequently, judging from the look of the discarded bottles and international Wizarding newspapers scattered about the disillusioned field. A dumpy witch in a wrinkled purple robe snored on the bench across from him.

Jerking out his thumb, the Autobus de Chevalier, came to a screeching halt mere inches from his face. Choking on the copious amounts of unnatural smoke emanating from the hulking contraption's tailpipe, he waved it away from his face before stepping onboard. God, how he hated traveling on the Knight Bus in France! It was a horrid way to travel, but he had no idea where to begin looking for this Madame Curie, other than infiltrating the records at her Internet service provider.

The dirty bus driver greeted him, inquiring as to his destination. "Bonjour Monsieur Rogue ! Accueillir à Paris. Où dans cette ville fine fera vous dirige aujourd'hui ?"

Snape replied in flawless French, "S'il Vous plaît me Prendre au Berekely, et Lui voir nous le faisons là dans un morceau." The driver gave a snort at the rude Englishman, who had intimated the driver would not get him there in one piece.

As if to spite the tall, ugly foreigner, the driver sneered and stepped madly on the gas before Snape had a chance to sit down. After the hellish ride, the driver yelped in surprise as Snape hexed his balls into ice cubes just before stepping off the bus. It served the bastard right for knocking him about on the journey.

The luxurious Berkeley was another of Severus' favorite hotels for informal business. It was downtown but had its own private suites for paying wizarding clientele that wished to remain discrete. A past fling with the owner's wife helped him to maintain a discounted rate and guaranteed point for passing on sensitive information or contraband potions supplies. Such a handy little spot to still have tucked under his wing, and more importantly, away from Dumbledore's prying mind.

Snape stretched out on the Slytherin green four-poster embossed with silver filigree nymphs dancing down the teak headboard, giving sneak peeks of their wares. It was an exciting touch, albeit useless, to the otherwise tasteful décor. His long fingers unzipped his laptop bag, wrestling out his portable computer, propping it on his stomach as he sat up against the pillows. Frowning at the screen that stared back at him with the blinking message counter for his email, he swore softly when he read the short message from his lovely Madame Curie.

Monsieur Snape,

I regret to inform you I have been called away suddenly and will be unable to meet you for your visit to Paris. I sincerely hope you enjoy all that our beautiful city has to offer and extend my sincere condolences if my absence has caused you undue hardship. Please accept my apologies. I feel as if I must make up for this somehow, and I have expedited a shipment of Felix Felices to Hogwarts in apology for your inconvenience.

Sincerely and Regretfully, Madame Curie

Fuck. Now, what the hell was he supposed to do? It was almost as if she were purposely avoiding him. Why else would she send a precious batch of potions as an apology? The witch had to be incredibly wealthy to throw about that kind of gift as a casual apology.

Rubbing his hands together, Snape set his laptop off to the side and whisked off to the shower, the gears turning in his head as they worked out a plan to hunt down the elusive Madame Curie, whether she liked it or not.


	3. You can run, but you can't hide....

The horse-drawn carriage dropped an exhausted Hermione off in front of a converted club turned Internet Café that had seen better days in an old part of Bucharest. She wondered if Radu had even bothered to keep her private quarters in a habitable condition. Hermione had only been here once to set up accommodations, not liking the way the shopkeeper kept staring at her chest and arse. Now she was cursing herself for not bothering to take more time to have a better backup plan. Romania? What had she been thinking? Well, to be honest, she hadn't been thinking. The whole running away thing hadn't made sense, to begin with, but she had stayed away after figuring she had been gone too long to go back home and have her denial of guilt sound plausible, at least to her own ears.

She tossed her raggedy braid over her shoulder and trudged into the ramshackle café'. There were precisely two booths with computers, both in use. A sign in Romanian and English announced Wi-Fi, money changing services and Western Union, calling card sales, a vending machine with Coca-Cola emblazoned across it and of course, a hand-written chalkboard in the native language listing various drinks on offer. Her feet scraped across the dirty floor and rang a small bell at the counter.

Radu burst through the back doorway from behind the counter, laughing as he did. His back was to her, and he was shouting raucously at someone who giggled in reply. Turning to see who had demanded his attention, Hermione blushed a deep shade of pink when he gave her a dirty grin and finished zipping up his pants in the process. 

'So that's what I interrupted. How embarrassing.'

Unperturbed by the intrusion, he merely held out both hands and rambled off something very quickly. Staring blankly at the man, Hermione figured he didn't remember her. She shook her head at him and spoke evenly. "I only speak English, Radu. I am Hermione Granger, and I've come to claim the room I paid in advance for if you still have it ready."

Radu looked puzzled and stared at her blankly for a long moment before the light bulb went off in his head. "Ah, yes!" he exclaimed in his thick accent. "Miss Hermione! Of course, of course, right this way. What a lovely surprise. I have kept your room in top condition."

With a wary glance at his wandering gaze, she followed him up a steep flight of worn stairs and down a long hallway. At the end of the hall and to the left under the light of a single bare light bulb swinging from the ceiling, a graying door opened with a click from the key he turned in the keyhole. "Your room, Miss Hermione."

She stepped in and gasped. The opulence of the room made her wonder if she had stepped into a whole new dimension. Rich, plush burgundy carpeting stretched across the expanse of the room from one wall to another. A kitchen nook held the latest Muggle appliances complete with a mini-fridge, microwave, toaster, coffee maker and cutlery. The queen-sized bed in the corner was divine but straightforward with a lovely cream and silver comforter complete with throw pillows and a drape for privacy. A flat-screen television was hung on the opposite wall with a DVD player and stereo underneath. He had even installed a faux fireplace with mantle, had fresh flowers cut and a ten-gallon aquarium in another corner next to a giant wing-backed chair perfect for curling up in. A series of empty shelves completed the room over a simple desk. Off to the side of the entrance was what Radu showed her to be the loo, which was quite simple in contrast to the rest of the room.

Hermione was taken aback by the luxurious furnishings. "Radu, are you sure there hasn't been some mistake? I didn't pay for this! This is too much, really!"

"Is it not what you wish?" He frowned with displeasure that his guest did not seem happy with the preparations he had made for her. She had said to keep it in top condition, and this was the best he could afford with the money she had given him. "You did say to keep it in top condition, ready for you to stay at a moment's notice."

"I-I did? Oh, yes, right. I did." Now it was her turn to frown. How much money had she given him exactly?

Exasperated, Radu strode quickly to a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out a piece of paper that had been re-folded many times over. He opened it carefully and pulled out a stack of Romanian bills and receipts. He was anxious to settle in this annoying Englishwoman and get back to his hot girlfriend downstairs.

"Look here. You signed, and I signed. You asked for the best with the money you gave me. This is the exchange rate from British pounds to Romanian lei. You can buy much more in my country with the money you have given me than what you can buy in England. If it does not please you, you are free to change the room as you see fit as long as you do not destroy anything. The building is old and not easy to repair. Now if there is anything else I can do for you?"

His continued frown dawned on the dumbstruck witch that he actually thought she was displeased with his efforts! In a concerted effort to dissuade him from this line of thought, she took one of his hands in both of hers, accepting the paperwork and money as she did so. "Thank you so much, Radu! I'm quite pleased with the results. It was just such a pleasant surprise, and I will make sure you are handsomely rewarded for your efforts."

At this change of heart, a warm smile broke over his uneven features, and his gaze turned from irritated to a bit naughty. "If there is anything else I can do for you, anything at all….." His eyes raked up and down over her figure appreciatively despite her ragged and travel-worn appearance.

"Uh, no thanks. I think I'll be fine."

With a slight bow and quirk of his lips, he replied, "As you wish." Leaving the key with her, he strode out without looking back. 

Hermione practically ran up the stairs in her haste to get away from the creep, bursting into her new accommodations. She immediately locked and strongly warded the door behind her and sank in a heap into the plush pile at her feet. It certainly was a beautiful room. With a heavy heart she set about making the place her own, all the while refusing to entertain thoughts of the extreme hurt in her heart at missing and abandoning her friends and family and the uncertain future that awaited her.

xx

"Dammit!"

Snape slammed his fists against the countertop of the Internet Café' he was visiting to see if Hermione had been there. The IP address he had tracked to the service provider had led to a network of twisting alley-ways that were littered with hole-in-the-wall Internet Cafés such as this one. At this rate, it would take him a week just to weed through them all. It really irritated him the provider couldn't have been a little more specific with the address. With a shrug and a French epithet thrown his way, Snape had been forced to retreat due to a large number of Muggles crowding the lobby with some complaint or another.

With a heavy sigh very uncharacteristic of him, he quickly flipped a few coins onto the counter for the man's trouble and continued down the twisting street to the next shop. This really sucked. He had better things to do with his time. Then why wasn't he doing them? 'Because you are besotted with the brilliant witch you old fool,' he chastised himself internally. Such a stupid thing it had been to fall in love with a witch over the fucking Internet. If it had been anyone else, he would have laughed at them. In his rational mind, the idea of falling for someone over 'cyberspace' was a fool's undertaking. The feelings were a false projection of one's hopes, dreams, and ideals onto an unknown identity and transforming it into the epitome of what one wanted in a partner and falling in love with the façade.

Only now it had happened to him, and it was not just merely a façade. The feelings that drove him to search in vain for the elusive witch were very much real and tearing him apart inside with each frantic second that passed. The fact that he didn't have a real name to go on besides her business name was not helping matters any. If she wanted to remain hidden, there was no way he had of following her to the ends of the earth if she had paid off a tight-lipped shopkeeper that was good at blocking his Legilimency skills.

A dingy shop with a faded sign was next on his little improvised route. Curling his lip in disgust but not one to leave any stone unturned, he gingerly pushed the door open and made his way to the counter. A grizzled looking, haggard man with three or four days worth of gray shadowing his chin in sparse clumps stared idly at a laptop in the deserted café'. The place was a real tip. Severus greeted the man in French, and the man simply pointed over to the computers.

"You got one hour of free use of computers, and then you gotta buy something if you wanna stay longer." The man hadn't looked up once.

"Oh good, you speak English." What a relief that was. Snape hated the way the French language rolled off his tongue like he had his mouth full of excrement.

That got the man's attention. He peered through hair even more greasy than Severus' and studied him with bloodshot eyes. "Hey man, do I know you?"

"No sir, I am sure I have not made your acquaintance until now. I would like to know if you are familiar with a woman by the name of Madame Curie." Severus usually found that if he kept his inquiries simple, he got better results.

"Mebbe." The man squinted and frowned at him like he was a kid asking for a free drink. "Depends on who's askin'."

Now he was getting somewhere. "I am an old acquaintance of hers and have lost contact. I was aware she resided in France and need to conduct urgent business with the Madame. If you could be so kind as to enlighten me as to her current whereabouts-"

"I ain't tellin' you nuthin." The man stood up from his chair, the Hawaiian shirt and faded khaki pants severely out of place in Paris. "The lady took off out of here like Satan was chasing her. I'm assuming she had good reason by the looks of you."

Severus wondered what, exactly, it was about him that made people respond to him in such a way. In his opinion, he had cleaned up quite well since the war, going so far as to bathe daily and dress much more suitably to whatever environment he happened to be in. Today he was dressed in casual black slacks, a button-down black shirt, and a black sports coat. Ah-ha. It was the black that did it. Perhaps he should have left his black dragon hide boots behind as well.

"I will pay you." Money talks.

That seemed to get the man's attention. "How much?"

"What is your asking price?"

"How much you got?"

Snape's fingers twitched. He really, really wanted to hex the man. It would be so simple to force the idiot to tell him what he wanted to know. It was not Snape's intention of bringing any attention to his little search, however.

Severus reached into his pocket and pulled out a Muggle billfold; black of course. In a move he had seen his father do many times to impress others, he opened the lip of it and fanned his thumb across the bills so the other man could see there was no lack of funds for the asking. It seemed to work. The greedy shopkeeper licked his lips as his eyes flicked from Snape's to the money and back.

"You jus' hand that wad of bills over and I'll tell you what I know."

As the man reached for the wallet, Severus pulled it back sharply. Gaze never leaving the other man's face, he took out a few and set them on the counter. "If you tell me the general location of where she went I will double that amount. If you have an address, I will quadruple it. And if you tell me her name, you can have the contents of my wallet."

That really seemed to interest the dirty old American. The bloke's hand literally shook with anticipation as he took a tattered shoebox from under the counter and dug through it. Pulling out a pen and paper, he scribbled something down and pushed it across to Severus. It contained an address, and what the hell? Had she gone to Romania?

"How do I know this is the correct address?" Snape leaned forward threateningly, widening his stance, so the way he held his body was unmistakable in its message.

"I know because she asked me if I knew of any place where she could set up a second shop in another country. A buddy of mine gave me his brother's address in Romania. I assume she set up shop there."

"You assume?" That was the wrong thing to say to Severus Snape. He reached over the counter and fisted the man's horrid shirt in one fist, pulling him nose to nose.

"Look, man, I don't want any trouble, alright? The chick lit out of here like her heels were on fire and this was the only place I knew of she might have gone. Hell, she never left the damn place as it was, hardly at all, before the day she took off outta here."

This was interesting news. Why would such a wonderful, bright and brilliant witch set up and run her multi-million galleon business from a shit-eating hovel such as this?

Releasing the man from his grasp, Snape threw down half again what he had promised. Before the man could object, he interjected. "Because you are not positive of Madame Curie's whereabouts, I am only rewarding you half as much as promised for the address. If you are wrong, my friend, I will be back to collect. Don't spend it all in one place."

Turning on a heel, Severus made to stalk out with supreme haughtiness when he swiveled his neck round one more time. Quirking an eyebrow, he inquired, "What did you say the Madame's name was?"

The shopkeeper was busy stuffing the bills in his pocket. "I didn't," he muttered. "She never told me her real name."

With a vivid sneer, Snape fisted the piece of paper with the address in Romania and strode to an alley where he could safely Apparate back to his rented room. He had a witch to track down.


	4. Run, Little Mouse

Hermione sank back gratefully into the bubble-filled bathtub. The owner of the establishment had really outdone himself, in her opinion. The lovely scented bath beads did wonders for her aching back and tension-induced headache. Now that she was settled in, the ambiance of the place was starting to unwind her troubled mind. There was no way in hell anyone would find her here. The old-world charm of Bucharest was precisely what her hurting soul needed to regenerate her flagging spirits. There were also some contacts to be made within the city to expand certain aspects of her enterprise. Staying in the city, for a while at least, could prove very lucrative. At the end of the year, she planned to donate three-quarters of her liquid assets to various charities back home. It was the least she could do as a silent apology to her friends back home, and society in general.

Closing her eyes blissfully, Hermione let her fingers slide down her taut belly to the apex between her thighs. It was a shame she wouldn't be able to write to Severus anymore. It had been rather cruel to lead him on with their emails, but he was the only person she knew who even remotely was able to keep up with her intellectually. It was such a turn-on to think of their heated online debates and expostulation of their vociferous opinions that were bantered back and forth through cyberspace.

Only a few minutes of rubbing and tweaking brought her to a quick, hard climax as she moaned his name under her breath. Sighing with both exhaustion and regret, she slipped out of the bath, readied for bed, and sat at her laptop to catch up with her backlog of email and orders she'd neglected for the past several days.

xx

Snape sat across the street from the address he had been given, frowning inwardly. This Madame Curie surely wouldn't have ditched one hovel for another? Was she some old eccentric that had been toying with him? Her flight from France to this backwater rubbish heap hardly seemed like the place a lady of distinguished taste in potions ingredients would go to do business.

There were very few people scurrying about this time of day. The superstitious people of Bucharest liked to be indoors after dark. It was a smart move, considering there was a much higher werewolf and vampire population in Romania, than anywhere else in the world. Certain precautions were ingrained in their nature. Not wishing to encounter any local after-dark creepy crawlies himself, Severus pushed off the filthy wall he'd been leaning against and opened the door to the- whatever it was- across the street, and went in.

A single lantern was suspended from the ceiling, casting gargantuan shadows that played out harmlessly on the ceiling, sloping down the wall to the faded flooring under his dragon-hide booted feet.

A rusty bell sat on the counter, and he rang it several times before a voice shouted from the back room in Romanian, "We're full! Go away!"

Snape continued to ring the bell until a half-dressed man yanked open the door and shouted, "What the fuck do you want? We're full!"

Being fluent in Romanian, Severus put on his best glare and pulled himself up to his full height.

"I am looking for someone. I was told she is residing at this- hotel." He sneered; using the word 'hotel' contemptuously like it was shit on his tongue.

"I do not give away information about my customers. We are full, no occupancy. See yourself out. Goodnight."

The door to the other room slammed shut and locked, a woman's voice rising over the curses and mutterings of the shopkeeper. He stood there for a few minutes and sneered at the dimly lit, grimy Internet Café. It was disgusting.

Snape quickly leaped over the counter and quietly nosed about for keys to any more rooms in case the rude Romanian had been lying about being full. This didn't seem like the type of place that would attract many customers, but not knowing much about the establishment caused Severus to keep such final conclusions to himself. There was nothing of value and no keys to be seen behind the counter.

He sighed with disgust when the unmistakable sound of slapping bodies sounded from behind the closed door, the woman's voice rising over the piggish grunts of the shopkeeper.

The sun had gone down, and a fine mist had risen off the darkened streets that stood abandoned. Not so much as a whisper of a ghost or footstep echoed off the cobblestone as he quickly disillusioned himself and made his way down a few streets to the next available establishment with rooms for let. After haggling with the buxom brunette behind the counter that eyed him up and down in a not-so-subtle manner, he finally secured a room and set about planning his next strategy.

xx

The morning dawned bright and early, the few pedestrians passing by the Internet Café, never seeing the man in black pressed into the shadows of the building opposite, a robust Notice-Me-Not spell causing most eyes to slide right past him. For three long days, Severus kept a hawkish watch over the entrance and windows to the building Madame Curie was purported to be in. Not once did anyone come out of the building that even remotely resembled the woman he imagined her to be. Perhaps the owner of the French establishment had been lying to him? An ugly curl appeared on the Potions master's face at the thought of wringing the man's scrawny neck with his bare hands for lying to him, right after he tore his mind to shreds of insanity for the trouble he'd caused by sending him on this wild goose chase.

Just as he was about to push off from the side of the building to leave, the door to the Café opened and out walked one of the most exquisite creatures he had ever seen. This woman was a swan amongst the peasant filth that polluted these backward streets. It was as if an angel had descended and suddenly chose to show herself for him for some unknown prophetic purpose. For a moment, his breath caught in his throat, and he was unable to breathe. Her beauty took his breath away, and there was no doubt in his mind that this stunning beauty was his Madame Curie.

Snape shook himself out of his momentary stupor and cast a Cushioning charm on his footsteps as he followed her down the street at a safe distance, intent on seeing where she was headed.

xx

Hermione woke up the fourth day of her stay feeling refreshed and alive. There was no trace of worry or guilt on her mind as she took off to establish some new clientele for her business. A dealer in rare herbs and potions ingredients was purported to live just a short stroll away, according to one of what she referred to as her 'talent scouts'. She had three such folks around the globe scavenging for new and unique people and resources that could enhance the profitability and cutting edge of her business. The list of people she needed to check out personally had been growing. As of late, she'd grown lazy, and had wallowed in self-pity.

Now, being in this old-world city lifted her spirits. Having cleansed herself and cast a magnificent glamour, Hermione headed out to take on the world and do business. First, she needed to meet up with the interpreter. No matter how many translation charms she got a hold of or spells she cast, the thick dialect of the Romanians seemed to elude her. 

Hermione really kicked herself for not learning the basics.

About halfway to her meeting point with the translator, the hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end. Not wishing to draw any attention to herself, Hermione faked a small stumble and stopped to take off her shoe, as if searching for an errant pebble. Very cautiously, she chanced a glance backward. There was no one behind her except for an old woman beating a rug outside the door to her little shop.

Hermione let out a breath of relief and chalked the experience up to the war and all the time she'd been on the run. It was sheer force of habit, and her nerves were acting up. Maybe she should have taken that Calming Draught after all? Well, no matter, it was too late for that now.

The rest of her walk to meet the translator and stop into the next potential client's establishment was uneventful. Having successfully negotiated a tentative contract after laying out her wants and needs, she paid the woman she had employed to speak for her and headed back to Internet Café.

The shadows were growing long on the walls of the stone buildings she passed, and she quickened her pace just a bit. There was still a good bit to walk before she reached her destination, and although Hermione was far from superstitious, she didn't want to deal with the perils of being alone on the streets of this mysterious city after dark.

The sun seemed to mock her in its race to set as the darkness enveloped her quite suddenly. Only a few hundred yards separated her from her destination, an unforgiving coldness creeping up her neck once again. A rustle of fabric from across the street caught her ear, and she shivered inwardly. Blaming it on her imagination still, she broke into a jog, her eyes trained on the door to the Café.

The scrape of a boot caused her to shriek as she drew her wand and broke into a dead run. Metal and leather-soled boots pounded on the street behind her in apparent pursuit as she flung herself the last few feet to the door. To her horror, a large hand with pale, slender fingers gripped her arm almost painfully and pulled her back from the door and around to the side of the building. Before she could scream, another hand yanked her wand from her grasp and covered her mouth tightly.

Hermione kicked and flailed fruitlessly against the large, hardened body of her captor. A low chuckle sent rivers of dread running up and down her spine.

"My my, quite the spitfire, aren't we?"

She knew that laugh. There was only one person in the entire world that possessed that silky smooth baritone. The one person in the world as a whole she wished to escape from had somehow followed and found her.

Slowly releasing his grasp on her mouth, Hermione was spun around by the man she feared most in this world at that very moment. She peered through the darkness, up into coal-black eyes that blended seamlessly with the night, and shuddered involuntarily. Her legs seemed to go weak, and he had to hold her up just a bit to keep her steady.

"Excuse me for frightening you, for it was not my intention. Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Severus Snape. We have been conversing with one another for quite some time, and it was most urgent that I speak with you. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Madame Curie."

Forgetting she still was under the influence of the glamour, Hermione did the only thing her body allowed her to do after his introduction and sweeping bow. She vomited on his dragon hide boots and fainted dead away into his arms.


	5. The Irony of Fate

"Goddamnit!" Snape muttered as the witch emptied the contents of her stomach all over his brand new boots, promptly catching her as she fainted dead away. Perhaps that hadn't been the best approach, he mused.

A faint shimmering began to glow around the gorgeous witch, and he watched in wonder as her image appeared to grow watery and melt away. Just as the shock of who he was actually holding in his arms registered, a series of soft pops sounded around him at varying intervals.

"Fuck!" he snarled, turning quickly on heel and Disapparating to a dry fountain mere blocks from where they had come from just a short time ago. He continued to crack in and out of existence, from place to place, until he felt their trail would be untraceable. Appearing at his own rented room, the dark wizard kept the myriad of thoughts threatening to overwhelm him regarding his unconscious charge at bay, as he strode up the step and deposited Hermione on the bed.

"Well, I'll be damned. Hermione fucking Granger."

What the hell was she doing in Bucharest? No one had heard from her in so long there was little talk of her anymore. Even the Prophet had stopped running speculation articles on her whereabouts and various false sightings of the elusive witch. The trail had gone cold, and even her friends had begun to move on, so much so that Potter had held a pathetic memorial service in her memory so his bleeding Gryffindor heart could endure, Snape surmised.

Visions of the humiliating ceremony chased memories of rage and revenge through his head as he folded his cloak and covered the witch who had filled out nicely in the time she had been gone. It was no wonder she had used a Glamour, but hardly necessary considering no one was looking for her anymore. Her prank hadn't been a crime, merely an extreme annoyance at his expense. Well, now that she was in his clutches, a little payback was in order.

Taking a seat on a creaky chair next to the bed, Severus stretched out his long legs and frowned into the hot tea he had prepared. What if she was working with Madame Curie? He had tracked the object of his desire to this part of the city. There was a reasonable likelihood she had something to do with the brilliance of the operation and quality of the potions. Fuck. That would be just his luck if Granger was the brains behind the business and some dumpy old hag was financing it.

He sipped his tea, eyeing her still form out of the corner of his eye thoughtfully. A lot of embarrassment and hunting could be avoided if that were the case. A little creative coaxing would get the truth out of her, and if he didn't like what he heard, a smooth Obliviate would solve his small problem and send her on her merry way. Why invite trouble back into his life, after all? It's not like he missed the Know-It-All back home. Okay, that was a lie. He did miss some of the discussions they used to have. No one knew the ins and outs of potions the way she did, well, except for Madame Curie.

His eyes narrowed. There was too much coincidence; her expertise, her location, her sudden fear at his abrupt appearance. Snape finished his tea and set it on the bedside table, steepling his fingers together. Yes, this would be a most interesting conversation, indeed.

Stifling a considerable yawn, the long, lean form of Severus Snape sank onto the bed next to the lightly snoring witch. He kicked off his dried vomit boots and lay down, his feet and lower half of his calves hanging off the end of the bed annoyingly. His eyes were closed in no more than a few minutes, and he was out, exhausted from the previous few days' hunt, surveillance, and subsequent excitement.

xx

Hermione hummed contentedly as she floated in a half-awake, half dream-like state. She was in Godric's Hollow, snuggling down in the pillow-top feather bed that had her name stamped all over it whenever she visited. A better night's sleep was never had than after the war had been won. A drunken melee, parties gone riot, and lots of victoriy snogging led to many couples shagging in the nearest shadowy corner they could find. Hermione had not been exempt and was embarrassed that she couldn't remember who she had been reamed by over the back of Harry's office chair. The tall, sinewy figure finished shagging her from behind as the inebriated couple slumped, drunk and sated against one another.  
Hermione's hand drifted across the bed and caressed the long, lean form that lay beside her. Wait a minute; the mystery shag hadn't stayed the night with her! Frightened golden brown eyes flew open as the previous night came rushing back to her. She had been followed; frightened half to death. 'Oh, my God!'

Ever so slowly, Hermione turned her head and stifled a groan at the still form of Severus Snape in the bed next to her. She exhaled a soft breath of relief that they were both still fully clothed. Carefully lifting her hand from his arm, she did her best to slide off the bed unnoticed, watching his chest rise and fall in sleep. Somehow, she needed to get out of here before he woke and get the fuck away from him. There was no telling what he would do to her once he was awake. She fought to keep a tear from falling as her perceived, overblown imagination of what he must think of her took over.

Hermione reached for her wand and cursed. Of course, he had taken it off of her! Scanning the sparsely furnished room, her eyes soon came to rest on her wand that sat side by side next to his on the opposite side of the bed. Yes, it made sense he'd keep them both within reach.

Her eyes flicked to the bed again. His eyelids were still shut normally; the eyeballs making dreaming movements as his chest steadily rose and fell. A finger twitched momentarily and was still. So softly, ever so softly, she extended her hand and whispered, "Accio Hermione's wand."

A striking cobra couldn't have won in a match against Severus Snape's hand that shot into the air and caught her wand like a bullet shot from a gun. His own wand was in his other hand, and he had sprung to his feet before you could say, "Holy Mother of Merlin."

"Going somewhere, Miss Granger?" he purred dangerously, dangling both wands carelessly from his fingertips.

Her eyes darted from her wand to the door and back again. She was no match for his speed and agility with a wand. Making a break for it, she ran for the door, just in time to bounce off of it, sparks flying from the wards he had placed there the night before.

"Tsk tsk, Miss Granger. Surely a witch of your caliber would recognize that a wizard of my caliber wouldn't be so pedestrian as to allow you such an easy avenue of escape, hmmm?" He turned his back on her, mocking her capture as he made a fresh cup of tea.

Hermione picked herself up from the heap of robes and frizzed hair off of the floor and crossed both arms under her breasts. "I demand to know why you are holding me prisoner!"

"I think that much should be obvious," Snape drawled maddeningly, still with his back turned to her.

It bugged her to no end that this infuriating man thought so little of her ability to attack him that he disregarded her as he would a first-year DADA student. He took his time with the tea, stirring methodically, placing the kettle on the hotplate with practiced ease. With the look of one that had not a care in the world, he whorled dramatically and seated himself on the rickety chair next to the bed, his long legs crossed at the ankles, stretched out in front of him. His eyes flicked down to the end of the bed where his dragon hide boots still sported the dried vomit from the night before.

She shifted again uncomfortably, trying hard not to fidget when his steely gaze slid back to her own confused chocolate brown eyes while regarding her with a curious expression. Unable to stand the silence, she started on a safe topic; his boots.

"I-I'm awfully sorry for being sick on your boots. It's just, you scared me quite thoroughly, and it isn't proper to be lurking about so-"

"Enough!"

The roar from his previously quiet throat startled her into submission immediately. He continued sipping his tea as if nothing were untoward. His odd behavior was making her mental. Why didn't he just tell her what he wanted from her so she could leave? Because he was an insufferable git, that was why. She clenched her teeth together in irritation and immediately felt horrid. Who was she to be mad at him? It was her own fault she was in this mess, and if she hadn't of run from him in the first place, neither of them would be here trying to outstare one another.

The coal-black of his eyes seemed to penetrate her to the very bone, and a slight chill made her shiver in response. Hermione slowly sank to the floor under the weight of his gaze, finally unable to hold onto her resolve to outlast him. Her lower lip trembled as all of her nightmares and suppressed memories came flooding back all at once. The horrible burst of smoke, the sordid, scathing announcement as a shocked Potions master turned in her direction with the most hateful expression on his face she had ever seen.

All of her time in hiding, from him and everyone else, had come to an end. In a way, it was a relief. Now she could pick up the pieces of her ruined life and move on after running from an act she hadn't even committed, but sentenced herself to guilt, due to her own silence. Snape was going to be ten times as brassed off when she told him that she was Madame Curie. He had been expecting some fabulous mystery woman, and all he got in return was the horrid Know-It-All he had hated since her first year. She pressed her head to her knees and laced her hands together around the front, waiting for him to speak or make some move, to rip her to shreds and demand explanations.

None of the latter was forthcoming. Much to her stunned surprise, a warm body pressed itself to her back and two strong arms wrapped about her, a head resting on her shoulder. With a startled shriek, she started to scoot away but was restrained by the firm embrace.

"Professor?" she inquired shakily, not entirely sure of his intent.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" he murmured into her hair, his breath hot against her neck.

"Wha- what are you doing?"

"I think that much should be obvious."

"Okay." She sat very still, unable to comprehend this dark, enigmatic man. Predictability was not a trait anyone would award to Severus Snape.

Severus smiled into her neck as he breathed in the glorious scent of her skin and lightly fragrant curls. Up until a short while ago, he had been determined to destroy this young woman for the hurt she had caused him, and the unending ridicule he had had to endure from those around him, so much so that he had sequestered himself away from everyone in Great Britain that knew of the incident; which was everyone. Only Albus and the other teaching staff had access to his person, besides the students, and they had all sworn an oath not even to mention it ever again as much as it had eaten away at him.

Now, with this miraculous turn of events, the woman of his dreams had turned out to be the one he had despised for so long. Irony was a strange bedfellow, but coping was a Slytherin trait, and one he had honed well.

"Miss Granger, you may call me Severus." He continued to move his lips against her neck and felt another shudder run down her spine. He brought his hands away from her knees and combed through her beautiful hair. Intoxicating. He inhaled deeply and sighed. No, this wasn't what he had imagined, but in a way, it was better. He wouldn't have to start over with Hermione. He knew her quite well already whether she realized it or not. It was perfect.

"I don't understand!" she cried, leaning forward to edge away from his grasp, but he gently held her hair in both hands and pulled her back into his chest.

"Of course you don't- Hermione, or should I call you- Madame Curie?"

The way Hermione jumped had him chuckling again. "I don't know what you're talking about!" Hermione protested vehemently.

Severus tsked her once more as he brought his cheek flush with the brilliant, flustered witch within his grasp. "Surely, you haven't forgotten that I am one of the most powerful Legilimens ever to walk this realm, Hermione?"

His silky baritone caressed her like honey drizzling its way onto her skin. Her protests became weaker as she sighed and feebly complained back at him. "That- that's not fair! You're not supposed to use that on someone without their permission!"

The half-hearted response was not lost on Severus. He already had her lowered to the floor now as he quickly moved around to face her, and draped one long leg over her middle, so he was straddling her thighs. He leaned in close to her lips, continuing the unplanned seduction.

"I've been searching for you, Madame Curie. Oh yes, your little game of cat and mouse led me on quite the wild goose chase. At last, I've got you exactly where I want you, my provocative, luscious witch."

"You do?"

"Oh, yes." Hermione's eyes were clouded with confusion and a rising desire as he expertly played her like a Stradivarius.

His lips brushed against the soft, pink, plump ones only briefly before lowering his lips to her other ear where he continued to soothe and nibble. The nimble long, talented fingers of his calloused hands lightly ran up and down her arms, over her shoulders and down her sides as if soothing a frightened young animal.

"Your very thoughts told me everything I needed to know, and it is, indeed a fascinating story you have to tell. I find it a waste you didn't tell the truth so very long ago except for the fact that you've made a brilliant success of your potions business. I've been longing to meet you for ages now, and all this time it was you who had been seducing me over cyberspace."

"Uh, huh," was all he got in reply. The previously stunned witch tentatively wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in his raven's wing, greasy black hair. It had been an age since he'd had a proper shower, but she didn't seem to notice, as genuinely in thrall as he was by now.

Deciding to leave the rest of the discussion for a later time, Severus took the plunge and kissed her gently at first, putting firm pressure against her lips until she responded with force of her own. With a soft sigh, he took it to the next level and lightly probed for entry with the tip of his tongue. In the meantime, first one, then the other of his legs stretched backward to softly nudge her knees aside so he could rest in between. His large erection pressed painfully against the front of his trousers, directly on the growing heat between her legs.

Hermione moaned in response and opened to accept his questing kisses. Her hands combed and kneaded through his long hair, more lengthy than she ever remembered it being during her school years. It suited him. Hermione was a sucker for long hair on men. This incredible interlude had to be a dream. She would never have thought he'd reward her treachery with such divine seduction, but here she was, about to make love to one of the most powerful wizards of her time.

Severus cupped her cheek with one hand, the other stealing over the cloth at her breast to palm its fullness over her blouse. He groaned into her mouth and swallowed her keen exhale in response. His kisses grew more in-depth, more fervent by the moment. The breaking point came when she wrapped her legs around his waist and ground her hot center against his raging prick. That did it.

In a few swift moves he had her on the bed and his wand in his hand, his lips still intertwined with hers as he wordlessly divested them of their clothing with a few simple swishes and flicks.

His urgency had been building for months in anticipation of this moment. All of his fantasies and wank sessions were about to bear fruit with this incredible woman, so responsive to his every touch. How he'd never seen her in this light before was a mystery. In the space of a few moments, she had become everything he desired in a witch and more.

"Severus, I need you. Make love to me."

Stifling the need to cry out at her declaration, he held himself at her entrance and moved the head of his penis up and down over her soaking folds. At another time, he wanted to pleasure her properly and taste her wet treasure, but for now, there was one mutual need he intended to fulfill most thoroughly.

"Yes, yes!" she breathed against his chest, and in one hard thrust, he entered her tight passage, pressed up tight to her core up to the balls.

"Oh Hermione, you feel so good!" He couldn't help declaring his passion as he grunted and began thrusting intimately over her, bracing himself on his forearms and reaching down to nip and steal interludes of kisses and tongue swirls while he fucked her. Her legs continued to wrap around him, and now she was meeting his powerful motions with an answering call.

"Gods witch, you're so fucking tight! Take it, Hermione, feel me fucking you. That's right, this is for all this time you've tormented me. Take. My. Cock. And. Come. For. Me!" He punctuated the last of his short monologue with sharp, staccato bursts of power, reaching between them to pinch her clit the last couple of times in unison.

Her eyes glazed over, and her back arched off the bed as she screamed, his name rolling off of her tongue like it had been there for all time. He continued fucking through her orgasm, furthering the pleasure she experienced as he felt his own orgasm begin to build.

But it wasn't enough. He wanted to take her to heaven once more before he finished. Years of self-denial enabled him to ignore her cries of mercy and enjoy the delicious pounding and slapping that permeated the thick atmosphere of the small room. His balls were soaked, the cream from her orgasm causing her pussy to make sucking sounds as he pressed in and out at lightning speed. Hermione had latched on to his shoulder and bit down, sucking hard as he grunted at the painful pleasure. His arse muscles clenched and unclenched desperately as he twisted his hips and caught her clit on the smooth upstroke.

"Fucking right, witch. Take it! Take it and love it, Oh God Hermione come for me you hot fucking witch, oh god!" and he was there, right on the edge of his own desire, about to break loose from the confines of his taut desire. Severus gritted his teeth and slammed against her painfully three more times before he felt her clench around him in a vise while she screamed the room down again, clawing and swearing at him while he gasped and buried his cock inside of her one final time. His cock shot a heavy load of come inside of her, spurting heavily as he grunted and groaned into her neck and shoulder, breathing, "Hermione, oh yes Hermione," until at last, he collapsed on top of her, spent.

Her pussy continued to contract feebly with the aftershocks of their combined pleasure until his slowly softening cock slipped out of her and lay, spent against the wet curls of her sex.

Hermione smiled against his skin and planted tiny kisses along his shoulder and upper arm. He returned the favor, and their tongues found each other again as they continued their exploration of one another's bodies, no longer the hunter and the hunted, but only the lovers being loved by one another at long last.

For now, they would make love and revel in their newfound oneness. Reality was another dimension that could wait until they had taken their fill.


	6. Interlude

For three days and two nights, Severus detained his new-found Madame Curie, making passionate love to her frequently. In between sessions, they talked of the past and began to unravel the series of events that had led them to their current predicament. Severus was deeply touched and irritated simultaneously by her story. Why in the world, she would sacrifice herself to take the blame for a bad joke was beyond his realm of understanding. At the same time, he was impressed and awed by the size of her potions venture. It was a worldwide business and one she had accomplished success within a few short years by marketing an image of Madame Curie quite shrewdly and worthy of Slytherin praise. At last, the time had come for him to return to Hogwarts and the moment he had dreaded confronting her about.

"Hermione." Severus trailed a finger lazily down one side of her breast, around the areola and backed up the other side of her curve.

She giggled and pushed his hand away. "Stop that! I'm ticklish!"

"Oh, really?" He gave her a rare smile and tickled her in earnest for a few moments before allowing her to regain her breath before kissing the witch senseless.

"Oh, Severus, I wish you didn't have to go," she breathed against his questing lips.

"Come with me. Come back to Hogwarts with me. Tell your story and help me find the true culprit behind that farce of a joke." He slowly trailed fiery kisses across her jawline and down her throat.

"I-I – Oh!- I can't do that. What are people going to say? I've been gone for too long. It's better this way."

"Don't be ridiculous, witch. Everyone will be thrilled to have the Gryffindor Princess back from the dead."

"The dead?" Hermione pushed him away suddenly, wide-eyed in her dismay.

Severus huffed his annoyance and fell back against the pillow. "If you must know, Potter held a memorial service in your honor."

"They think I'm dead?" Hermione repeated, her eyes becoming suspiciously misty.

"What else are they supposed to think? You left the country and didn't bother to let anyone know where you were going. I don't believe they think you are dead in a physical sense, but in a way, you are dead to them. You've deserted them."

"What?" she screeched, her small hand slapping and leaving a sharp sting against his chest.

"Ow! Stop that!" He grabbed her wrist tightly and wrenched the angry woman to his chest. Holding her in a vise to keep her from struggling, he looked deeply into her stormy brown eyes and whispered, "Legilimens."

It was so much easier to just show her images of her friends and colleagues rather than prattle on endlessly and suffer her temper tantrums and misunderstandings. He'd caught the sharp end of her tongue several times over the last few days. True, he had simply fucked her wicked tongue into submission on more than one occasion, but she had seemed to enjoy it nonetheless.

Hermione sagged onto his chest as she saw the heartache her disappearance had caused.

"Oh, Severus. What have I done?"

His strong arms embraced her gently but firmly as he continued to soothe her in his rich, warm baritone. "You did what silly witches with big ideas, little common sense, and misguided senses of justice do in such overwhelming circumstances. You took the blame like a courageous little Gryffindor and let the real git off the proverbial hook."

His renewed, thick erection pressed heavily against her lower belly, throbbing in time with the heartbeat pumping within his breast.

"Hermione," he whispered thickly.

"Severus." Barely moving, she lowered her head and rested it against his shoulder. Her hips slid forward; tilted to suit the angle needed and then encompassed his length until Severus was buried in her heat entirely.

"Gods, witch!"

Hermione took her time, rocking against him in exquisite rapture. Their lovemaking was unhurried, savored by them both. It was so warm and cozy in the little Romanian tavern room, clothes strewn about and numerous cups of tea stains on the dark wood on the lone table beside the bed.

Severus kneaded her arse cheeks with his long, skilled fingers, encouraging her with subtle movements to go a little more quickly after the slow pace began to drive him mad with agonized pleasure.

"Hermione, oh gods, yes!"

The beautiful witch trailed her tongue down his upper chest and around each nipple, biting them gently before soothing the hurt with her tongue. Making him gasp, she clenched her kegel muscles and sat straight up on top of him. She lowered and raised herself up and down a bit faster, her breasts bouncing lightly, long chestnut curls draping past her shoulders and framing the curves beautifully.

"You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," he rasped out, his black eyes glittering hotly.

Hermione's mouth dropped open slightly as the slow, curling burn bloomed in her belly and made its way up her chest and down into her groin. Blood pooled in all the right places as her eyes glazed over and her fingernails dug into his thighs. "Severus, I'm coming, oh gods yes I'm coming!"

"Yes, witch! Come on my cock!" He grabbed her hips and thrust up wildly when he felt her inner muscles choke his cock in a death grip. Severus fucked her hard while she keened through her rapture. With a great, unrestrained shout he blew his load into her, burst after burst of come yanked from his balls, going on for longer than he had ever experienced until at last the exhausted couple lay panting together in the aftershocks of unrestrained desire.

"Come home with me. You can stay with me at the castle, and I'll make sure your return is handled properly. I won't allow anyone to give you any grief over your absence. Come with me, and I'll take care of everything."

Hermione looked deep into the beseeching eyes of Severus Snape, and the only answer she could give him with a plea like that falling from his lips was a resounding, "Yes, I will."

Kissing her soundly, the couple then rose to shower and make preparations for their return to Hogwarts and the inevitable hornet's nest her return would invoke.

It was going to be quite interesting, indeed.


	7. The Beginning, the End, and a New Beginning

“Severus my boy! How was your little excursion?” Albus Dumbledore sat behind his wide desk, noble in his posture and sweeping with his welcoming gesture. “Lemon drop?”

Severus sneered slightly and inclined his head. “No thank you, Headmaster.”

“So tell me, my dear boy. What pressing matter brings you to my office this time of night?”

It didn’t matter what time of day or night Severus was summoned or needed to see the headmaster. The old coot always seemed to be in his office or around the castle at the most opportune moments, or inopportune, depending on whom you were and what the situation was. Severus considered it to be a most meddlesome occurrence.

“Albus, I’ve recently returned from a most intriguing venture.” The Potions master steepled his fingers and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“I’ve come to secure your assistance in a most delicate matter. If you would be so gracious as to allow me a few moments of your time, I’d like to make a proposal that will require your absolute discretion.”

Intrigued, Albus leaned forward over his desk, those merry blue eyes twinkling dangerously. With the war over, things had grown rather dull. A little excitement, even in his advanced age, was right up Dumbledore's alley. “Of course, Severus. You know that whatever is within my power to grant is at your disposal. What, pray tell, is this pressing matter you’ve come to me about?”

With a flippant gesture, the door to Albus’ office creaked open, and Hermione Granger slipped in, her head bowed as she slowly approached the headmaster’s desk.

“Great Morgana! Miss Granger, my dear girl! Do come here so I can get a look at you.”

Hermione came forward, her head still down, eyes trained on the worn floor beneath her trainers.

Albus hurried around his desk and settled to a rest in front of the young witch. With the tip of a wizened finger under her chin, the aged wizard slowly brought her teary, honey-brown eyes up to meet his own baby blues.

“My dear, Miss Granger. We thought you were lost to us.”

In a move that surprised Hermione, never mind the normally stoic Professor Snape, Albus Dumbledore surged forward and clasped the slight witch to his chest. Hermione could feel the frail frame beneath the voluminous robes the old wizard wore. There didn’t seem to be much of him left beneath, and even she had to admit that he kept the fact well hidden.

“How we’ve missed you dearly.” The choked sob broke the momentary silence, and then Hermione was also sobbing on his shoulder.

Severus rolled his eyes and harrumphed uncomfortably.

“As touching as this little reunion may be, we have business to discuss.”

Pulling back from one another, Albus took off his spectacles and wiped them clean on a section of a star-spangled robe.

“Yes, of course, Severus, my dear boy. Excuse my momentary lapse of emotion. You mustn’t begrudge an old man the joy of seeing the brightest witch of our age return to the fold.”

Hermione smiled then, whispering softly. “I missed you too, Headmaster.”

A tense discussion followed, the headmaster nodding at appropriate intervals at Severus’ narration and instruction. Hermione tried her best to follow along and finally gave up after a while. It all seemed so complicated, but even she had to admit there was a very Slytherin angle to it all. And wouldn’t Harry be surprised to see her?

xx

The Daily Prophet, Special Monday Edition

This reporter has run a special edition just to bring this astounding news to our loyal readers. Hermione Granger, war heroine and purportedly missing since the botched conclusion of the Order of Merlin ceremony several years ago, has been spotted in Diagon Alley by none other than Headmaster Albus Dumbledore! In a rare quote from the enigmatic headmaster, this reporter was on hand to diligently gather all the eyewitness details!

‘Yes, I was on my way to Flourish and Blotts to pick up an order, and I saw Miss Granger out of the corner of my eye. I turned to speak with her, and she vanished into a nearby shop. Of course, none of us have seen or heard from her since that unfortunate incident, so I followed her into the shop. It was most curious. When I went into the shop, she was nowhere to be found. I assume she Apparated the moment she entered the shop as the store owners did not see or hear her come in.’

When asked for further detail, the headmaster merely shrugged and offered this reporter a lemon drop before heading on his way.

A more perfect opportunity for reporting could never be staged, folks, as the infamous Hogwarts Potions Master Severus Snape came traipsing out of Slug and Jiggers just as the headmaster continued on into Flourish and Blotts.

I intercepted the dour man and recounted the headmaster’s recollection of the sighting.

‘I am well aware of the headmaster’s observations. Now if you will excuse me, I have business to attend to.’

‘Professor Snape. Can you tell me your reaction to the supposed return of Miss Granger?’

‘Have you nothing better to do than harass the local citizenry?’

Ladies and gentlemen, you will forgive a reporter for not letting such an opportunity pass me by as I continued to intercept the man for a reaction.

‘Professor. Please, the public deserves to know what is on your mind. In light of the horrid prank she pulled on you at the Order of Merlin celebration, what will you do when you meet Miss Granger face to face?’

‘If I tell you, will you be gone from my presence?’

‘One statement is all I ask, Professor. If you please.’

The dark wizard turned to face me folks, and if I hadn’t known he was on the side of Light during the war, I would have been frightened for the look he gave me.

‘When I see Miss Granger, she better be prepared for what she has coming to her. I have had more than ample time to think of ways that will make her regret showing her face in this part of the world ever again.’

‘Is that a threat on her person, Professor?’

‘Make of it what you will. The Fates do not allow such a stupid stunt to go unpunished.’

In a swirl of black robes, the forbidding man swept from my presence, presumably to return to said duties.

As these exciting events unfold, you can be assured this reporter will keep you all abreast of the latest news concerning the whereabouts of Miss Granger and the reaction of one Severus Snape.

News of the upcoming annual ball celebrating the fall of the Dark Lord continued on page 2

~Rita Skeeter, contributing journalist and editor, The Daily Prophet~ 

xx

Harry Potter slammed the newspaper down on the table at Godric’s Hollow.

“What the hell?”

Ginny spooned food into the baby’s mouth and just shook her head. “Who knows, love? She had her reasons for leaving, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, but I’m her best friend!”

“Correction, you were her best friend. She apparently doesn’t see you that way, especially after the stunt she pulled on Professor Snape in front of the entire wizarding elite.”

“Ginny, how can you say that? You know Hermione would never do anything like that! Besides that, what’s with Snape getting away with threatening her on the front page of the Prophet? Shouldn’t he be arrested or something? I should march over there right now and-”

“And what? Abuse your power as an Auror? He didn’t actually say what he was going to do to her. Besides, you’re the only one who seems to think Hermione’s innocent, Harry. She pretty much sealed her own fate when she up and disappeared. That just spells guilty to me.”

Harry shoved the paper across the table with both hands before he levitated it into the fire.

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing, Ginny Potter. I will never believe that a friend of mine could do anything like that to another human being, even if it were the Greasy Git. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to find her and get to the bottom of this, and I’ll be damned if I let Snape hurt her in any way!”

Sniffing delicately, Ginny ignored her husband and continued to coo and make faces at their baby boy.

xx

The annual wizarding ball to celebrate the fall of the Dark Lord was held at the Ministry on a clear night, cold and crisp but still refreshing. It seemed as if the entire wizarding world had turned out, and everyone was laughing and enjoying themselves. The Ministry had really outdone themselves this year. The hors d’ œuvres were magnificent, and the elf-made wine was flowing freely.

Albus Dumbledore sat on stage amongst the leaders of wizarding society. Slightly to his right and back a row was Severus Snape in all his velvet-lined robed finery; black of course.

He leaned forward and whispered to Dumbledore. “Albus, do you think this is going to work? It seems a bit simplistic. I think we should have gone with my plan.”

The old wizard merely smiled and twinkled, speaking out of the side of his mouth without seeming to do so. “Trust me, Severus. When have you known one of my plans to fail?”

Snape snorted softly, not deeming to answer the loaded question.

Sitting back to wait until the right moment, Snape folded his hands and followed Dumbledore’s lead.

So the evening went, patrons, imbibing the free-flowing wine and the smuggled Firewhiskey. Speeches were held, honorary titles were bestowed, and heads of state were introduced. Visiting dignitaries were regaled, and jokes were cracked. The dancing soon followed, and the now-inebriated crowd was celebrating freely, raucous laughter and bawdy groping plain to every eye amongst the revelers.

Severus was extremely impatient at this point, and he tapped Albus on the shoulder a bit too hard.

“Albus….” he hissed with irritation.

“Not long now, Severus,” twinkled Dumbledore with amusement.

Heaving a weary sigh, Snape sat back once more into his chair which was starting to cause the velvet to stick to his back most irritatingly. A murmur running through the crowd and sudden halt of the music and dancing caused Severus to sit up sharply and take notice.

Hermione had emerged from backstage and now taken her place on the podium. How she had managed to slip past the three rows of dignitaries, heads of state and other guests was beyond him, but he figured Albus had something to do with it.

Every head in the hall was trained on the witch with shining auburn curls hanging in loose waves, flowing down her shoulders and framing a beautiful, but sad face.

You could have heard a wand drop in the extreme silence before she spoke.

“I’ve come here tonight to make amends,” she started, sounding a bit unsure, her voice growing stronger as she continued.

“I’ve been gone a long time, and I have caused many of you unimaginable pain with my disappearance and failure to communicate. For that, I am truly sorry.”

Snape’s eyes wandered from the dais to where Potter, Weasley, and their little crowd of hangers-on stood with their mouths open. He smirked, pleased to at last have one up on the annoying Boy-Who-Bloody-Lived. It was almost time for him to act. This was going to be a gamble, but if Dumbledore were correct, it would pay off, thus flushing out the real culprit of that fateful day and righting a wrong that was long-overdue for justice.

He had missed a small part of what she had said, but then his attention trained on his lover once more.

“….and in retrospect, I am sorry to my best friends, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley. You always stood by me, and I abandoned you when I should have trusted you to support me during a difficult time. If anyone has any questions, I will be here to answer them. I apologize for interrupting the celebration.”

“Severus! Now!”

Albus’ urging caused him to leap dramatically from his chair, and in a flash, Hermione was in his grasp under the blazing spotlight on the dais. He had one hand on the front of her throat, the other pointing his wand at the other side of her neck. Severus had Accio’d her wand and thrown it far from them before taking hold of her neck. Unable to use the Sonorous, he resorted to using his booming teacher’s voice to fill the great hall.

“Miss Granger, how lovely to see you once again!”

Hermione struggled appropriately, forcing down the urge to laugh hysterically. She knew she should have at least pretended to be more afraid of him, but his burgeoning erection in her backside made it challenging to concentrate.

“Let go of me, you monster!” she screeched.

As if awakening from a daze, more than a hundred witches and wizards had their wands trained at the pair on center stage.

“Let her go!” shouted Potter.

'Predictable', thought Snape. 'Ever the Gryffindor racing to the rescue, plowing on ahead without thinking of the consequences.'

Severus raised a mocking eyebrow in response.

“Oh, do tell Mister Potter. What do you plan to do if I do not?”

The furious Auror had shoved his way to the front of the crowd and on to the stage. The world held its breath as the two old enemies faced off.

“I always knew you were rotten, Snape!” he spat, green eyes sparking fury.

“You’re one to talk, Potter!” Snape roared back, deafening Hermione’s eardrums in the process.

She really had to tell him to place a Muffliato around her the next time he chose to screech at someone while right next to her.

“This little bitch has come back from the dead to offer pathetic apologies to you lot, when the one she should have been on her knees before, begging forgiveness, is ME!”

Digging his wand into her throat just a bit harder for effect, Severus snarled quite convincingly at the assembled.

“And if you don’t think I won’t hex the little swot with an Unforgiveable right here in front all of you, try me! I dare you, Potter. Where is that Gryffindor bravery now? You owe me! You all owe me for saving your pathetic little lives time and time again, and my repayment is humiliation at what should have been the crowning achievement of my thankless career as spy and soldier for the Light. Well, fuck all of you!”

Raising his wand and opening his mouth as if to strike, the sudden crush of bodies towards the pair was stopped by a Sonorous.

“Don’t do it, it was me!”

Frozen to their spot, hundreds of eyes peered in the direction of the declaration.

Ronald Weasley stepped from his hiding place behind a pillar and pushed his way through the crowd.

He hopped up on stage and stood between Snape and Harry, head hanging dejectedly. He tossed his wand onto the floor and whispered softly. “It wasn’t her. It was me. I did it. I set up the prank, not Hermione, and I let her take the blame for it.”

Hermione’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. It was Ron?

“Ron? It was you all along?” Harry carefully trained his wand on his friend, keeping an eye on Snape who had by now dropped his wand and pushed the lithe witch away from him a few steps. Motioning to Hermione, he urged her to join him and was confused when she remained rooted next to Snape.

Ron muttered and had to be asked twice to repeat himself. “I said yes!” he cried out, finally turning in a circle to face the room. “Yes, I admit it! I planned the prank that day. I hated that stupid, arrogant prat for always making our lives a living hell. I hated the way he looked so smug down his nose like he was too good for everyone. And you, Harry, he hated you! Don’t you see? He hated you! He deserved it!”

Harry’s face was a mixture of shock and fury. His voice was deadly calm as he spoke to his former best mate. “Regardless of how you felt about Snape, you let Hermione take the blame! Why did you do that?”

Ron mumbled again before speaking up when Harry poked him in the ribs with his wand.

“She broke up with me. She deserved it too. Both of them. There, I said it. Are you happy?”

Harry simply shook his head and bound Ron’s hands behind his back and picked up his wand, slipping it into his robes. The confused hall gasped again, causing Harry to turn his head to the sight of Hermione snogging his former Potions professor with a passion that contradicted the hatred that had been pouring from the man moments earlier. He wasn’t born yesterday, and immediately suspected there was much more to the story when a madly twinkling Dumbledore came up behind the passionate couple and clapped a hand on either shoulder, spouting a merry, “Well done, both of you!”

The Minister for Magic took control of the situation and ended the celebration, as it had almost been time to complete the evening anyway.

xx

The Daily Prophet, Special Edition

This special Wednesday edition of the Prophet is brought to you by Weasley’s Wizarding Wheeze’s, the one and only joke shop for all your magical needs!

In a move that stunned the wizarding world, Ronald Bilius Weasley has admitted to the plot behind Hogwarts Potions master, Severus Snape’s, humiliation at the Order of Merlin award ceremony.

Long believed to be the work of Hermione Granger, it turns out that in the act of misplaced bravery Miss Granger took the fall for the incident and instead exiled herself to France. In her absence, Miss Granger has successfully marketed her brilliance and turned herself into an International Potions Mistress, the long renowned and formerly unknown Madame Curie, who has rocked the world with her potions innovations and charms research.

As evidenced at the annual ball celebrating the fall of Voldemort, the intelligent Albus Dumbledore orchestrated an attempt on Miss Granger’s life to flush out the nefarious Weasley, who is now set to stand trial for other acts of treason he is purported to have been involved in including spying for the Dark Lord, assassination attempts on the Minister for Magic and deliberate sabotage of a war hero’s reputation. It is unknown whether Severus Snape will be contacting his barrister in regards to filing for damages.

The wizarding world celebrates the return of Miss Granger and wishes her and Professor Snape all the best success in their new life together at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

This is your new Prophet reporter, Neville Longbottom, signing out.

More on the incarceration of Rita Skeeter for allegedly consorting with Ronald Weasley on page 2

xx

Severus Snape laid down the paper and emptied the last bit of tea down his throat, sighing with satisfaction. He looked down, amused at the witch between his legs sucking him so intimately while he dined.

He raised an eyebrow and smirked at her. “Enjoying your breakfast, dear?” he rumbled.

“Mmmm hmmm!” Hermione nodded her head as enthusiastically as possible, considering she had his huge cock in her mouth, sucking it with enthusiasm. A few more sucks and a squeeze to his ball sac had Snape groaning with completion as he emptied himself down her throat.

“Gods, what a way to start the day,” he sighed, pulling his love into his lap.

“I love you too Severus Snape,” she grinned, nuzzling his big conch with her own pert nose. She lazily traced the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, down his face to his jawline and laughed when he captured the tip of her finger in his mouth.

“You don’t have to teach anymore, you know if you don’t want to. I am a multi-million galleon success. You could go into business with me and open your own research facility or apothecary.”

He suckled her finger, deep in thought. “You know, I think that is a wonderful idea, my dear. What do you think Albus’ reaction will be when I present him with my resignation right before the start of the new term?”

“Oh, you are a wicked man, Severus Snape!” she laughed, wrapping her arms around him for a sensual kiss.

When she was thoroughly snogged, she leaned back and studied her beau intently.

“What is it, love?” Severus asked, suddenly worried by that look in her eyes. He desperately wanted to read her mind but refrained out of respect. If she wanted to tell him, she would.

As it was, she did. “What would your reaction be if I told you I was pregnant?” She bit her lip in that adorable way he loved.

“Pregnant? You mean, you… and me… and…” at a loss for words, he pointed to her belly.

She nodded her head and relaxed visibly when a rare smile graced his features.

“I’d ask you what sort of wedding you’d like to have, and where you’d like to live. We’re going to need lots of room for our children to run around.”

“Children? As in, you want more than one?”

“As many as you’ll give me, love,” he whispered, pulling her in for another kiss.

“I love you, Severus Snape.”

“And I, you, Hermione.”

He kissed her tenderly, his hand over hers, covering her belly and their child growing within.

Life was good and was about to get a whole lot better.

Fin.


End file.
